


Entirely Your Fault

by StuntMuppet



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Community: sizeofthatthing, M/M, Porn, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-01
Updated: 2009-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-04 01:09:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StuntMuppet/pseuds/StuntMuppet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Doctor finds a way to pass the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entirely Your Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [anonymous Doctor Who kinkmeme](http://community.livejournal.com/sizeofthatthing); cleaned up since then to make it okay for posting.

"I do wish you'd stop acting as if this was entirely my fault, Brigadier." The Doctor pulled experimentally at the handcuffs.

"That's because it _is_ your fault, Doctor. If you hadn't started rambling on about the _last_ regime —"

"Well, it worked the last time I was here." He had to admit that the Ryvon were thorough — hands cuffed behind his back he could handle, but at the moment the short chains connecting his wrists were threaded through the same on the Brigadier. Not that he hadn't escaped from more complicated than this, but that last time he had a magnet, a rubber band, and three spare buttons on him. All he had now was…well, was Lethbridge-Stewart. "How was I to know about the military coup?"

The Brigadier sighed, exasperated, and turned his head as far as he could to face the Doctor. "Never mind. See if you can reach my emergency radio; it should be in my belt. We might be able to get a signal to mobile HQ from here."

"Don't think there's much chance of that," the Doctor warned. "Move your arms a bit to the left." He shrugged his shoulders, freeing up the greatest distance between their wrists. "_My_ left, Brigadier."

The Brigadier obeyed; with a minimum of twisting the Doctor reached his left arm around the other man's waist and found his belt, followed it with one hand until he came across an empty holster. "No good, I'm afraid."

"They've taken it?"

"So it would seem."

The Brigadier swore under his breath. "You don't happen to have anything unexpectedly useful in your pockets, do you?"

"I don't think so. Here, check them, one never knows —"

"Right, then, move over a bit —" Lethbridge-Stewart moved too fast and too unexpectedly, his shoulder pressing into the Doctor's arm.

" — wait! Wait a minute!" The two of them leaned perilously forward, overbalanced. The Doctor made a quick grab for the front of the Brigadier's uniform, and steadied himself just before gravity could win out. "Give me a moment, would you? We're about as steady as a spinning top."

He straightened up and released the Brigadier's tunic, and as he tried to shift back into position his hand fell past the belt, down across the top of the other man's hip —

\- and he got a rather interesting idea.

It was a bit of a challenge, finding his way by touch alone (through leather gloves, no less), but eventually his left hand worked its way under the tunic, up to the waistband of the Brigadier's slacks. And in this position it hardly took any stretching at all…

"Doctor? Doctor, what are you doing?"

"You know," he replied, as conversationally as he could manage, "considering the circumstances, I think the best plan for now might be to simply wait for reinforcements. I expect Jo can make short work of these." He slipped three fingers under the waistband, and even through the glove felt the change in texture from fabric to skin.

"Miss Grant? I thought you told her to stay at — Doctor, really, what on _earth_ are you doing?" But there was a fault in his voice — slight, yes, and emphatically buried beneath layers of professionalism and proper British decency, but there nonetheless, for an accustomed ear to hear. He smiled to himself, and slid his hand further down the Brigadier's hip, skimming his fingertips across the thin skin over the bone.

"At mobile HQ? My dear fellow, do you really think she listens to me?" Just a bit further, now, down along the top of the leg; beneath him the Brigadier's stomach clenched, though the other man swallowed hard and pretended it hadn't.

"I don't think —"

"Fascinating species, the Ryvon," he continued, seemingly oblivious. "Among the galaxy's most formidable military powers, yet never saw fit to develop any kind of advanced technology. Haven't even gotten around to inventing security cameras."

He was still for a moment, extending the unspoken invitation, even as he felt the Brigadier's body tensing, responding. And then —

"Quickly," the Brigadier replied, by way of acceptance, and drew a sharp breath as the Doctor reached down still further, teasing the base of his cock.

"Of course."


End file.
